


they're about us. aren't they?

by Bumble_Bee_Be



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, I'm Sorry, I'm so sorry, M/M, Sad Ending, The Author Regrets Everything, eleanor is a manipulative bitch, harry's a sad drunk, no happy ending, walls is so fucking loud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumble_Bee_Be/pseuds/Bumble_Bee_Be
Summary: Harry listens to Walls and pays Louis a visit“Those songs, Louis…” Harry starts. He swallows hard. “They’re- they’re about us. About me.” Louis' mouth goes dry and he says nothing. This was not how he imagined his night going. This was actually one of the things that scared him the most about releasing the album- what his reaction would be. His silence seemingly worries Harry, because his face contorts into an almost pained expression. “Well aren't they?” An edge of panic is creeping into his voice. Louis sighs heavily.“Harry, I’m not doing this with you right now. Not at 1 am and not with you drunk.” Harry frowns.I'm so sorry I don't know what this is ok- i'm too sleep deprived for this i don't even know anymore
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	they're about us. aren't they?

**Author's Note:**

> so this was originally supposed to be for the fic I wrote, Worth Fighting For, but i didn't get around to including it and didn't even know how I planned to, it just popped into my head. So here you go. Enjoy the pain. I'm so sorry.

Louis had been so nervous. No- not nervous.  _ Terrified _ . He had been absolutely terrified to release his first album. Terrified that his fans wouldn’t  _ see _ , wouldn’t  _ hear _ , wouldn’t  _ understand _ what he was trying to tell them through the lyrics. What he’d been trying to tell them for years, in every way he could think of. He stayed up until almost 4 am watching the reactions, replying to tweets and thanking his fan and watching the absolutely insane climb to the top his album took before Eleanor finally dragged him to bed.

That’s how he finds himself the next night, too. People have calmed down a bit now, but the enthusiasm and  _ love _ is still there. Louis has been trending on Twitter for over 24 hours now. His heart soars whenever he sees the tag his fans have settled on, #ProudOfLouis. So he spends hours scrolling through his feed, replying to tweets here and there and watching the continuing climb of the album up the charts. It’s quiet, peaceful as Louis sits there, nearly overwhelmed with the fan he’s currently feeling for his fans. And the relief that many of them heard him. Understood what he was saying. Of course, he couldn’t tell them that. But he knew, and they knew, and that was enough for now.

Then there’s a banging from outside the front door, and Louis frowns. Eleanor’s upstairs and it’s almost one in the morning. So that begs the question- who the hell is at his door? He’s in their living room on their couch, Clifford curled up beside him. Louis waits a moment, hoping the person might just leave. They don’t, knocking again instead. So, with a sigh, Louis sets down his phone, picks himself up off the couch, and pads over to the front door. He opens it, irritable and ready to tell off whoever’s outside. Instead, he’s nearly knocked over when a lanky body stumbles into his arms, having been leaning on the door.  _ Harry _ . Louis’ heart races as he blinks in surprise. 

“Hi,” Harry says softly, straightening slightly. He looks dazed, his cheeks ruddy. He’s drunk. Well, maybe not  _ drunk _ drunk. But certainly not sober.  _ Great _ , Louis thinks. A song is playing faintly from the phone in his hand and it takes Louis a moment to realize it’s  _ his  _ song. And not just any song. Harry’s phone is playing Habit.  _ Oh god _ . A horn honks, ripping him from his thoughts, and Louis looks past the curly haired man. There’s an uber outside, seemingly waiting for his pay. Louis sighs and gestures for him to wait a moment. He shifts so he’s almost completely supporting Harry, stumbling them over to the couch and easing Harry onto it. The man instantly starts petting Clifford, who huffs in response but accepts his fate. Louis can’t help but smile at the sight, despite the worry and panic bubbling in his chest. Another honk reminds him of the waiting driver, and he quickly grabs two 100 pound notes from his wallet on the coffee table. He jogs out to the car, passing the man the bills. 

“Keep the change and keep  _ this _ to yourself, yeah?” The man's eyes widen and he nods, so Louis pats the top of the car and turns to go back inside. 

He returns to find Harry still petting his dog, hand stroking his belly. His phone is on the coffee table, now playing Walls. Louis swallows hard and sits beside him, gently setting a hand on Harry’s knee. Harry looks up at the touch and Louis’ heart clenches. This isn’t the first time that Harry has showed up drunk at his flat, but it’s been a while. Months.  _ Many _ months. If only sober Harry had as much interest in Louis as drunk Harry does. Harry turns so his body is facing Louis. He’s silent for a moment, just studying Louis. Then, 

“I listened to your album.” It’s so quiet, Louis almost thinks he imagined it. But he didn’t. Harry straightens, sobering up slightly.

“Oh?” Louis asks softly, terrified of what the young singer is going to say next, reaching up to stroke a hand through Harry’s hair. It’s shorter now, but it still looks good. Harry always looks good. And that just makes it all so much worse, doesn’t it? But Harry moves away from the touch, catching Louis’ hand in his own. He stares right into Louis’ eyes, like he’s trying to look into his very soul. 

“Those songs, Louis…” Harry starts. He swallows hard. “They’re- they’re about us. About  _ me _ .” Louis' mouth goes dry and he says nothing. This was  _ not _ how he imagined his night going. This was actually one of the things that scared him the most about releasing the album- what  _ his _ reaction would be. His silence seemingly worries Harry, because his face contorts into an almost pained expression. “Well aren't they?” An edge of panic is creeping into his voice. Louis sighs heavily. 

“Harry, I’m not doing this with you right now. Not at 1 am and not with you drunk.” Harry frowns. 

“I’m not drunk,” he argues.

“You’re not sober.”

“I-” Whatever Harry was going to say dies in his throat as he freezes, looking past Louis, his face paling a shade lighter.

“Harry?” Eleanor asks irritably from behind Louis.  _ Shit _ . Louis turns to look at his annoyed girlfriend, silently begging her to leave them alone. “What the hell are you doing at our house at one in the morning?” The sharp tone in her voice makes Harry flinch beside Louis and Louis frowns.

“I- I don’t know,” he stammers, already standing up and stumbling in the direction of the door, avoiding meeting Eleanor’s gaze. “I- I’m sorry I’ll just- I’ll go I’m sorry.” He fumbles with the doorknob and Louis sighs, shooting Eleanor a look before standing up and walking to him, setting a gentle hand on his wrist. 

“No, Harry. Just stay here for the night. You can have the guest room,” Louis tells him, ignoring Eleanor’s hissed protest. Harry looks conflicted, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “You’re drunk, please just stay the night.” The younger man still looks unsure, his expression pained. Louis lowers his voice so just Harry can hear him. “Please, I won’t be able to sleep otherwise. Need to know you’re alright and the best way to do that is for you to just take the guest room.” He knows it’s not playing fair. Not fair to tell him that, guilt him like that, but it’s worth it because it works, just barely, Harry nodding hesitantly. 

“Y-yeah,” he sighs tiredly, caving. “Thank you.” Louis ignores Eleanor’s glare as he guides Harry to the spare room. The curly-haired singer collapses on the bed, growing drowsier by the second. His eyelids droop and Louis takes that as his cue to leave. Harry catches his wrist before he can, and Louis looks back at him. Harry’s eyes are shockingly alert for his current condition. 

“They were about me, right?” he whispers, thumb rubbing lightly over the tattoo on Louis’ wrist. 

“Always have been, always will be,” Louis admits softly, knowing it’s not likely Harry will remember his painfully honest words in the morning, before leaning down to kiss Harry’s forehead. Harry sighs and closes his eyes, seemingly content with that response, and drops Louis’ wrist. Louis watches him a moment longer before leaving, his heart aching. 

He’s with Eleanor and he loves her. He does. But he will always love Harry, even though the chasm between them is so wide Louis doubts they’ll ever successfully bridge it. Louis walks back into the living room to find Eleanor waiting, eyebrow raised expectantly. He sighs and sits next to her on the couch. She instantly tucks herself into him, arms wrapping around his waist.

“You have to stop, Louis,” she says softly. “He doesn’t love you. He loves your attention, loves having someone he can always fall back on. And you’re enabling him, like you always have. You have to  _ let him go _ . For both your sakes.”

“Eleanor-”

“I know. You love him. You probably always will. But do you love  _ me _ ? Because if you do, you’ll stop this. You have no idea how hard it is for me- seeing the way you care for him, the way you love him.” Tears have crept into Eleanor’s voice and Louis sighs, feeling instantly guilty. She’s right- it’s  _ not _ fair to him. Eleanor’s always right. She was right the first time she insisted he had to cut ties with Harry and she’s right now. Right?

“You’re right, darling,” he agrees. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. Tell him we can’t do this anymore, that  _ he _ can’t do this anymore. We both need to move on. For good, this time.” Eleanor doesn’t say anything else, just hums in response as Louis strokes his hand up and down her arm. After a few long minutes she yawns and shifts, standing up and holding out a hand. 

“Ready for bed, love?” she asks softly. Louis nods with a tired smile and allows her to tug him to his feet and up to their bedroom. He’ll deal with Harry tomorrow.

  
_ Do I really want to not have him in my life? _ Louis wonders a little while later, cuddled up with a sleeping Eleanor in their bed.  _ Do I want him to stop having me to fall back on? _ He truly doesn’t know the answer. All he knows is that he’s with Eleanor, and he loves her. It’s funny, he thinks as he drifts off, how you can say something so many times that you yourself don’t know if it’s the truth or just what you’ve convinced yourself is true.


End file.
